Boy who fled
by SkyeElf
Summary: When faced with the choice of fight or flight, he always chose the latter. He didn't know how to love, he was ignorant. He was a coward, and he couldn't understand why she was caring for him. One-shot, Dramione. B-day prez for Ana.


**A/N: Well, this is, by far, my longest one-shot. These things are getting longer and longer. Anyways, this is a birtday present for my sister, best friend, shrink and fellow mad-person, Ana. Hope you like it, sis! Oh, I, uh, Don't own Harry Potter.**

**Bow-who-fled**

Hermione sat atop the crumbled stairs as she considered the individuals. The Battle of Hogwarts was over, and the dead surpassed the living in a fearful number.

Her heart was broken. One might've assumed it was all Ron Weasley's doing, but it wasn't. It never was. She did love him, but she was yet to figure out if that love was kinship, friendship. Perhaps more. The kiss they'd shared was... not unejoyable, but it lacked a certain spark. A spark she now would never feel again.

Draco Malfoy. The pureblood-obsessed boy, who hated her with a passion, so much so that he threatened to kill her.

A ruse. As simple as that, a silly little ruse. He didn't hate her. He never did. He wanted her. Desired her. Longed for her.

One might have even wagered to say he loved her. That wager would've made the single person nearly as wealthy as the pureblood himself. Because Malfoys didn't love. They weren't taught how to love. That was why Lucius fumbled after Narcissa like a fool. That was why Draco thought he hated Hermione.

Third year she hit him. It was the first time she touched him. And he never forgot about it. Nor did she, for who would forget landing a punch on the nose of Draco Malfoy, the boy-who-fled.

She apologized the following year, entirely catching him off guard. One day the pair of them were both early for Potions, Hermione was rarely early, due to Harry and Ron's many escapades and lack of an ability to keep time. But that day she was. As she walked down the corridor, her books tightly clutched to her chest, he sneered. It was his job to look down on mudbloods and bloodtraitors and sneer. He had taken a lot of time perfecting that sneer, and he had two excellent mentors from whom he borrowed tips on how to sneer.

She strode up to him, coming to a stop inches from him, and looked him in the eyes. Her brown eyes showed courage - not surprising, truly, she was a Gryffindor, after all, but they also showed understanding. A certain knowing of their positions. He was a antagonist, she was a protagonist, they were to fight and he was destined to die by her hand. He knew that, she couldn't even have guessed it.

''I'm sorry.'' She didn't mumble or murmur, her voice was clear and it carried through the dungeons.

''For what, Granger?'' He'd asked, his pale features creasing into a frown. He'd been caught off guard, and that was something he hid well. A Malfoy was never caught off guard. The guards they put up were cold shoulders, sneers, sarcastic comments and belittling sayings. He opted for a frown, it was neutral enough, and she wouldn't see his surprise.

''Punching you. Even though you deserved it.'' She said cheekily, her hands clenching around her books. He noted.

''I won't argue with you, Granger, unclench.'' He drawled, leaning against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. Were Lucius to see him now, he'd have a lashing. Or his broomstick would be taken from him. Most possibly the latter, purebloods did not beat their children. They prefered a more psycology based type of abuse.

''I won't. I'm just saying sorry, Malfoy, you desrved it, but my parents actually raised me with manners.'' She said lightly, having the audacity to smile.

He had the world's respect for his parents, and even though they supported the dark side, no one would badmouth them in front of him!

His anger flared, the little red head poking out. He surged forward and slammed her into the wall. Her books fell to the floor, scattering.

''How dare you, you filthy mudblood?'' He demanded in a whisper. ''How dare you judge us?''

She didn't cower under his glare, she stared back.

''My parents taught me to respect others and that we're all equal. They taught me love. And you, Draco Malfoy, lack those qualities. You're parents might be powerful and you might be a spoilt rich kid, but you'll drown in your own power and wealth! You will never know love, because where there's both money and power, love takes a step back. And that's why you'll lose, becuase you will never know love, you will never have freedom.'' She pushed him back. He slammed her into the wall again, her head hitting the wall painfully.

Without a thought, without thinking of the future, the consequence or even how things would become, he kissed her.

He pressed his pale lips to her full ones, his eyes closed for the second their lips touched, and then he pulled back. Terror written on his face. What had he done? He took a step back, another one, his eyes not registering the girl in front of him. She seemed grossly alien. She stared at him, her mouth open in surprise. He grabbed his bag from the floor, and fled. She never knew where he went, he just fled.

For a while the bantering stopped. He avoided her as though she was a plague, like the pests that invaded Egypt all those years ago. He didn't jump sarcastic comments on Harry either. He just went on, from common room to class, to their various meals, the libraray and occasionaly he'd go out for a fly. He hated it that Quidditch had been cancelled that year, it would've kept his mind occupied. He had thrown himself into his books, working forward in classes, staying ahead and getting a headstart on the next year. As long as he didn't think about her.

It was like a virus, first it started with dreams of her, then he saw her everywhere he went. Her admittedly pretty face was always there. He saw her in books, in other girls, even other boys. He avoided conflict, because he didn't seem to handle those well.

When fifth year arrived, he knew what his destiny was. And he was terrified of it. The Dark Lord had returned, and he was stronger and more brutal than before. He was thirsty for revenge, for murder, for blood to run on his hands as the wizarding world cowered in fear. But at that time, he remained in hiding. Biding his time to kill Potter.

Malfoy stayed in his place. He knew he would have to continue ridiculing Potter, even if that was something he didn't want to do. He might not like Potter, but he pitied him. He'd seen someone die, he'd been through a number of things that Draco didn't wish on anyone. Not even his enemy.

A distraction came in a pink haze, her name meant torturer and her ways were medieval. He was expected to join, he was expected to act his part. The antogonist's part.

He stepped into the shoes of his father, becoming cold and distant to the world. He didn't want something like what happened with Granger to happen again. Draco Malfoy had become a puppet, with no visible master, no definable master, pulling the delicate strings he had. Not his father, nor his mother, nor the Dark Lord himself was this master.

The master was he himself. He'd become his own worst enemy. And the idea terrified him. There was Malfoy, playing his part and hating the world, and there was Draco, a kid. A kid who wanted to love but had not the abilities to do so.

The distraction worked, until the distraction left. He'd played his part in capturing Potter and pals, his eyes carefully avoiding Granger's, but he felt her brown ones on him, and he caught himself on the way to looking at her numerous times. He mentally chastised himself. She wasn't fit for him, for a Malfoy, he deserved better.

_You deserve none at all._

He looked up, and he finally met her eyes. Her eyes were accusing him.

And he knew he would be found guilty did he ever meet his Maker. His crimes were too large, too open, and no one could miss it.

That summer, Draco was told his part. It made him a larger role, and he knew then, more than ever, that he would die a young death.

He was to kill Albus Dumbledore. And he was expected to fail, though this was never voiced. He was expected to fail, so the Dark Lord could murder him in front of his father, to teach him a lesson. His errors at the ministry were so big that the Dark Lord would kill his son.

Draco climbed into his father shoes again, becoming 'Malfoy', Draco forgotten.

His sixth year he spent planning half-hearted attempts on Dumbledore's life. The ancient wizard knew, it terrified Malfoy. What would the headmaster do to him? Would he kill Draco? Would he send him to his master, failing his task?

Day by day he cried. He lost composure, his father's shoes were ripped from his feet and he just let all of the emotions out. He was scared of dying, he was cared of slowly dying, but he also feared growing old. Growing old would mean having to live with his conscience. He didn't have the guts to do that.

One of these days, he opted for the nearest bathroom. Myrtle's bathroom. Nobody in their right mind would enter it, Myrtle's rage was in the form of uncontrolable sobbing, moaning and (sometimes faulty) tales of her death. For boys it was failed attempts at flirting.

He didn't care. Myrtle could scream all she liked, he would just ignore her. He was good with that.

He was bent over a sink, not daring to look at his reflection, for it was a lie of he was meant to be. His tears fell into the basin, drip-drip-dripping...

He didn't see her coming. He was just turned from the basin and he was enveloped in a hug. A hug? He'd never had one of those. His mother sometimes held him, but that was it. He'd cleverly avoided being embraced. That was until now. Someone had done it without his consent.

At first he was furious, how dare they? He was a Malfoy, Malfoys did not embrace, they didn't partake in shows of affection, least of all publicly.

But maybe all Draco needed was a hug. So he clutched at the body. His arms encircled her waist, he knew it was a girl because she had long hair, and he cried. He didn't care who it was, it could've been Myrtle, but he didn't care.

He opened his heart, telling this person everything. From how he was to kill the Headmaster, to how he once kissed Hermione Granger. She was his first kiss too. And, now that he thought about it, it wasn't completely horrible. He also shared his inability to love, because he'd never been taught how. About how afraid he was of dying. Of slowly dying. Of growing old.

The girls said nothing, she rubbed his back soothingly, her breathing comforted him. It was calm, slow, and there. Soon he was calm, his yoke lighter after having opened his heart. He felt like a Gryffindor, his heart on his sleeve.

He pulled back, thanking her for listening, when he saw who it was.

Granger.

He considered fleeing again, becuase when he was confronted with fight or flight, the latter always seemed the safer option. Not this time though.

''Granger?''

''Yes, Malfoy.'' She finally spoke. Her hand reached forward and she caressed his arm. ''I'm sorry.''

''Thank you, Granger.'' He made an elegant bow in her direction. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks.

''For what, Malfoy?'' She asked, her tone implying a joke.

''Listening.'' He said simply. ''You surprise me continuously, Granger.''

''That's good.'' She nodded. ''I hate it when I act predicatably.''

''What will you do?'' He asked, finding it ironic how she should be asking him that question.

''I'll be a friend.'' She said, linking her arm through his. ''We have had our differences, true, but you need me. And I try to always be there for those I care about.''

She cared about him? He didn't voice the question, he stared at her in aghast. How could it be possible?

''Please.'' He started. ''I...''

''We won't tell anyone, Malfoy.'' She promised, looking up at him. ''All right, I'm telling Harry and Ron. The three of us have no secrets.'' The last time they'd had secrets, it had been disastrous.

He nodded his consent. He didn't know why, but he trusted her. More than he should.

The next time he saw Potter, Potter offered him a civilised nod, Weasley offered his hand. In shock he took it, adding a nod as he fought for composure. This was weird. This was odd. Absurd. His mind reeled at their gestures, convinced there was some sort of plan to catch him.

None came. The four met near the lake. They didn't talk as Hermione explained. Potter trained his eyes on Draco, drinking up every bit of information. At the end, Potter's emerald eyes were softer in a way, understanding shone. Weasley then offered him a hand, far more trusting than Draco ever thought possible.

''I'm sorry.'' Draco breathed. The trio shared a look and nodded. No need for more. The past was now the past, the future was coming frightfully fast and the present was that, a present. Draco wanted to smile, but he held it in.

''Me too.'' Potter spoke first. Apologies went all around, and the four were more understanding of each other.

Granger grazed his cheek with her lips when they were left alone.

''I'll teach you how to love.'' She whispered a soft promise, leaving him flustered and bamboozled.

The newfound understanding between the teenagers went unnoticed by most. Most excluding Luna Lovegood and Severus Snape. He confronted his godson, and was surprised at the boy finally opening up to him. He'd made a vow to protect him. And he would.

Everytime he met Granger, she grazed his cheek with her lips or touched his arm or made some sort of affection known. Of course they did it in secrecy, he'd have been killed otherwise.

One day, he called her Hermione and not Granger, and she was ecstatic. She'd rushed to hug him tightly, and he playfully asked her for his lung once she let go. She blushed and apologized, only to find a laughing Draco picking her up and spinning her around.

He'd grown to show affection. Could he love yet? He didn't know. In the following months he sought her, sometimes pulling her into a broomcloset just to see her. She would always press a light kiss to his cheek, not daring to do more at the time, terrified he'd flee. He was known as the boy-who-fled, and she intended to change that.

A day came when he pulled her into a closet and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was a turn of events, and Draco was confused as to his forward actions. He found himself looking forward to seeing her, so she must be important to him, not true? He was uncertain, he was afraid... So he fled. Living up to his name.

Days came and went, and his attempts on Dumbledore's life became quarter-hearted, his heart wasn't even in it to begin with, now it was completely out of it.

He knew that if he didn't do it, he would die. He also knew that he wasn't expected to do it, he was to fail and die as a result. A show for all those daring to defy the Dark Lord. The end was drawing near, even after he got a way to sneak fellow Death Eaters in, he would fail. Time was becoming less, and even his godfather sensed it, because he was a little out of character some days, even inviting Draco for tea and offering him a sweet thing to nibble on, or allowing the teenager to fall asleep in his private quarters and tucking him under a blanket. Severus cared, just not in a way he expected.

Hermione drifted into his thoughts more often. Her bushy hair made her nearly endearing, she did have a pretty face, especially since her teeth were shorter, and she'd become a dear friend to her. Sure, Potter was always there to listen, and soon Draco found a brother in him, whilst Weasley was... well, he was Weasley. He was bratty, but so was Draco, and the two had games and challenges to find out who was the winner.

Hermione sought him, pushing him into a corner and claiming a kiss of her own. She said she liked him, more than she should. He admitted he had... feelings. He didn't know what they were, but there was something. He missed her company, wanted to be with her, even just to talk to her. Heck, he liked her! And he liked few.

That was how it went after that. The two met in secrecy, they shared a tender kiss and they talked together.

Only Draco hungered for more. He'd seen Blaise and Theodore kiss girls passionately. Tongues dancing, or it sure looked like it, and they always looked like they were enjoying themselves.

He slammed her roughly into a wall, pressing a needy kiss on her lips. He was surprised when something wet and cold touched his lip. Her tongue! He was jittery, she'd caught on. Her hands slid along his neck and locked, and, without thought, his arms slithered around her waist. She pulled her to him, making him gasp at her advances. The next thing he knew their tongues were dancing. Battling a lazy battle for dominance.

She pulled away when his hands slid lower.

''Now, Malfoy, one step at a time.'' She said, tapping him playfully on the nose. He grinned, pulling her closer and resuming the kiss.

She'd fallen for him. She knew it, at that point it was already too late. Dumbledore was dead, and Draco and Snape had fled the scene.

The boy-who-fled.

She screamed at the walls, at her bed, at the nightstand. The others left her alone, never having seen their dorm-mate in such a state. She kicked her bedside table in hopes of ridding her feelings. She didn't know what to feel, to think or to do.

She felt... betrayed? Yes, betrayed. Hurt. Angry. She thought he was a coward, and she screamed at the walls and the windows. She was hopeless, her hands metaphorically tied. They'd been so close to breaking Draco from his shell. He was falling for her, and they both knew it. Perhaps it scared him, the alien feelings that caused his chest to tighten and his throat to constrict whenever he saw her, that caused his palms to become moist and had him stuttering.

Malfoys didn't stutter, after all.

Now it was all wasted! Wasted time, wasted space, wasted emotions, wasted help. Wasted! She pulled at her hair and sank down against the wall, her heart broken. Tears slid down her face, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Time wore on. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and the trio didn't hear anything from him. Not surprising, they were on a prolonged camping-trip, sometimes hungry and fatigued but too determined and scared to rest and relax.

Relaxing could come later. Priority now was ro defeat the infamous Lord Voldemort. She'd promised her friends she'd stay with them, and she would. No matter what.

They were captured and brought to Malfoy Manor. She didn't realise it until she saw Draco's pale face squint at Harry. His eyes flashed to hers for a quarter of a second before he denied that this was Harry Potter.

Attention turned to her then. Bellatrix lifted her wand in a dramatically slow motion, her demented smile in place. She got a knife and started to cut on Hermione's arm, her wand often being the medium of Hermione's torture in form of the cruciatus curse. She felt betrayed again, why wasn't Draco defending her?

_He's scared, Hermione. _

Her heart whispered. Who wouldn't be? It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

''No.'' Draco said calmly, he'd snapped out of his reverie, and he was not allowing this to continue. ''Leave her.'' He hated himself for having allowed it to go on this long, he had been afraid, but he was tired of fleeing and avoiding.

Every eye in the room turned to him. His own wand was aimed at his aunt, his hand steady and his face set. No fleeing.

''What?'' Bellatrix asked, her voice in a high octave, she couldn't believe it.

''I said leave her.'' He repeated it, slowly. ''Now.''

''She's a mudblood, Draco! She deserves it!'' His aunt argued, almost child-like. He sneered, his mouth turned down in disgust.

''Get out of my house, you bitch.'' He said simply, his wand not leaving her.

''It's Potter there, isn't it?'' She walked over to a swollen-faced Harry, only a few steps.

''Touch any of them further, and I'll kill you.'' He promised lowly. His mother was shocked into silence, his father confused. The others wanted this to play out, sort of like when there's a muggle car-accident, everyone wants to see. It was truly a grim joke.

Bellatrix leered at him, before stretching a filthy hand and touching Hermione's neck, caressing it, almost like a lover would.

''She's mine! _Avada Kedavra!_'' He jabbed his wand forward purposefully as his cheeks coloured in anger. Her lessons had been great, he did have to mean it. Fenrir Greyback dropped to the floor, dead. He stunned his aunt.

Her features went into a brief shock before she collapsed to the floor. A bundle of dirty clothes and even dirtier Limbs.

Silence.

Draco was the first to act. He stunned the snatchers, before training his wand on Harry. The latter still thought he'd been betrayed and disarmed Draco, caught the Slytherin's wand with a seeker's ease.

''I'm trying to help you!'' Draco yelled, turning to his parents. His stance showed he was ready to fight, and forget the idea of the boy-who-fled.

''Draco... dear...'' His mother started, her hands in front of her, as if she wanted to comfort him.

''Mother, Father, I'm saying this only once. I don't give a damn about blood. Muddy, filthy, clean, superior... it makes no matter! I love that woman, and if you won't accept it, I'll leave.'' He stated simply, pointing his hand at Hermione. She froze when he said he loved her. He _did_ care!

''Draco, she called him.'' Lucius said, his tone afraid. ''He's coming, and if he finds you, he'll kill you.''

Draco blanched. It had been on Severus' behalf that he'd been allowed to live, and now he was doing this. Placing himself in danger.

''Darling, go.'' His mother said quickly. ''We will find you, let us worry about this.'' She reached for her husband, and he extended his hand, entwining their fingers. The gesture brought tears to Draco's eyes. He turned from them, to his friends, and led them to the dungeon.

''Draco, where are we going?'' Potter asked, ignoring formalities.

''We have others to set free here.'' Draco answered, opening the door.

They found Luna and Mr. Ollivander. At first they were worried, then help came in the form of a tiny elf, Dobby. Draco thought Harry was insane for yelling into a broken mirror, but it had worked.

The small elf took them all, two by two. Harry and Ron went last, only just escaping the mad tyrant.

Hermione was hurt. She was bleeding from the cuts Bellatrix had made, and she was shaking. She'd been tortued, and he hadn't made a move to stop it. He was a bastard.

He helped her to the couch, letting the other three (Lovegood, Ollivander and the goblin) take the bedrooms. He ignored the eldest Weasley's looks of astonishment as he laid her down. He heard cries from outside, and dashed outside. Who else did he cause pain? Who else's life would he ruin?

His grey eyes met the orbs of his former servant.

''Dobby.'' He breathed, dashing forward as the elf sank in Potter's arm.

''Harry...Potter...'' The elf croaked, before his body became limp, his eyes reflecting the heavens and not shining the usual excitement.

Potter hugged the elf to him, odd sounds, almost like sobs, could be heard from him. Weasley was there in an instant, his arms around Potter, comforting him.

Draco envied them. He'd never had a friend like that. Except for Hermione, but these two were brothers, if not a tighter bond existed.

He patted Potter lightly on the shoulder, unsure of what to say or do.

After Dobby's funeral, the trio withdrew themselves. Hushing up whenever Draco or any of the othes approached. Oddly enough, the goblin they invited.

They were planning something, and it was nearly impossible for him to get her alone. Until he snuck to the room she shared with Lovegood one night.

''Draco?'' She whispered, her voice showing she hadn't fallen asleep yet.

''Yes?''

''I think I love you.'' She said, staring at the ceiling. He perched himself on the edge of her bed, searching for her hand in the darkness.

''I think I love you too.'' He replied, comforted by the warm, soft hand.

''We're going tomorrow.'' She announced. ''And I want you to stay here.''

''But...'' He began to object, his hand tightening.

''Please.'' She begged. He nodded, his throat thick. He made himself comfortable next to her and drew her into his arms.

''Thank you.''

''For what?'' She asked, confused.

''For this.'' He gave her shoulders a squeeze, indicating their relationship.

She rolled them over.

''One more thing before I leave.'' She said, sitting on his torso.

''Oh, yeah?'' He asked, his breath shallow.

''Yeah.'' She nodded, slamming her mouth to his with a wanton passion he had never felt before. Her hands crept to his chest, nearly ripping his shirt of as she played softly across his pale skin.

''Hermione...'' He groaned. ''Don't...''

''Are you really stopping me?'' She demanded lowly, her hand flew to her mane. ''Did I misunderstand your advances? Do I disgust you...''

He'd placed a hand over her mouth, or where he thought her mouth was, it was a bit hard to tell.

''No, Hermione, you're beautiful. I just don't want it, us, to be hurried, in the dark, in Weasley's house where you have a roommate.'' He said breathlessly. She climbed off him.

''You win this round, Malfoy.'' She grumbled, though a grin was evident in her voice.

''I still love you, Granger.'' He pulled her body to him, tucking his arms around her.

When he woke up, she was gone. He was cold, a bit betrayed, but he'd known they would go. Where did that leave him?

A knock on the door answered his call. The eldest Weasley child stepped into the room.

''Morning, Malfoy.'' He greeted, a freckled hand swept through his red locks.

''Morning.'' Draco attempted to smile, hiding his churning stomach.

''Can I come in?'' The redhead asked, he wasn't very comfortable in the current situation, it seemed.

''It's your home, Weasley, you can do as you please.'' Draco retaliated, sitting up entirely.

''True, though it's considered good manners.'' Bill shrugged, seating himself on Luna's empty bed. ''You can stay here, if you wish, though there are also other safe-houses, should you choose them. I know a Weasley isn't up to your standards.''

''I'm sorry. I apologize for everything I've said against your family, Weasley, because your younger brother has become a friend to me, and I wish I wasn't so prejudiced.'' Draco had no idea where the words came from, they just seemed to roll off his tongue without consent.

Bill smiled, the scars on his face seemed to vanish for that instant.

''Then I ask you to stay. Fleur has grown quite fond of you.'' Weasley said lightly. ''I warn you, she's my wife, so no poking about in my salad.''

Draco laughed. It was an odd sound, even in his own ears.

''I know, I have my own salad.'' Draco held up his hands in surrender.

''I can see that, you were sleeping in said salad's bed.'' Bill motioned to the room. Draco blushed, the faint pink on his cheeks made him appear to be a young schoolboy caught doing misdeeds.

''Sorry about that.'' He said under his voice. Bill laughed and waved it off, saying they were of age, after all.

The day went by rather fast. He offered to help around the house, shocking the married couple. Lovegood had been placed at the Weasley's aunt, who was, as they put it, difficult. Draco would wager she was more than just that.

His hands stood ready for any and every task they gave him, from cleaning the now empty rooms to cooking, but they soon learned he was horrible in the kitchen. They'd learned it a few days ago when he'd made an attempt at chopping onions, and the first onion was burnt at the end. Draco had no wand, he'd offered to loan it to Potter, and the burnt chopped onions baffled them all. How in the name of Merlin did he manage that?

Fleur had gently relieved him from the knife and told him to go see where Potter had buried Dobby. Of course he knew, he'd been present at the informal funeral, speaking his regrets for having treated the kind elf as a slave all those years, though Lovegood's speech remained the best, and it rang true.

Later the day, they recieved word in the form of patronus of a slightly bulky-looking wolf, the batte had begun, would they help?

Bill and Fleur immediately sent word to the other Weasleys, before Bill rounded on Draco, his wand at Draco's throat, his face shadowed in darkness. Instinct and fear had taken over, far more than anything else. Rationality was out the window, and Draco knew he had a choice: fight or flight. Would he live up to his name as the boy-who-fled, or would he fight?

''Malfoy, you choose your side now!'' He growled, the wolf showing through scarlet eyes and slightly longer teeth. ''Or I will kill you.''

''Bill!'' Fleur tried to pull him off, her small hands closing around his shoulders. He allowed her to pull him away, though his eyes didn't waver from Draco's form.

''Where did you find me this morning?'' Draco demanded, refusing to show weakness. ''That should give you an answer.'' The choice was evident: fight. He smirked, it would be wrong not to, at his choice.

The boy-who-fought had a nice ring to it.

Bill nodded, his eyes returning to the warm brown they'd been before. ''Sorry, Malfoy, I want to know who my friends are in this fight before we step into it.''

''I understand, Weasley, now would you remove your wand from my neck? It's highly unnerving.''

Bill lowered his wand. ''Coming?'' He held a hand out towards each of them. Fleur immediately took it, but Draco eyed it nervously.

''I may not be Hermione, but there's no way I'm stupid enough to enter this fight without a wand.'' He said, remembering that Potter had his wand. Bill twirled around (reminding Draco of how his godfather sometimes acted) and disappeared for a minute, before holding up a wand.

''Ron left it here, saying they had spares. You can use it if you wish.''

Draco took it almost greatfully, though he knew the wand wouldn't succumb to his wishes easily; he hadn't won it. He put a hand on Bill's arm, and the three disapparated to Hogsmeade.

The battle was mid-way. Immediately they were thrown into action as flashes of red and green light passed their heads and hit other. Wands flew into the air, and Draco's first thought was to win himself a wand. The one he had wasn't unwanted, but it didn't work the way he wanted it to.

He disarmed a Death Eater, catching his wand with his own seeking abilities, and fought his way into the castle.

The battle was thinning out, wizards and witches fought alongside individuals they'd never met, trusting them with their lives against the enemy. No one cared about their lives anymore. This was war - and the objective was to win.

He considered the crowds, his gray eyes searching for her. She was the reason he wasn't on the opposite side of the war. That he wasn't fighting a losing battle.

He might not die by her hand after all. The tale had turned on its head, throwing him - the former antagonist - into a protagonist role, forcing him to fight for something good. Something worthwhile.

He caught sight of them, his three friends. His eyes met Hermione's for a second, before they were blasted back by an exploding wall. He scrambled to help her up, she hugged him briefly before turning her attention to Ron, who was grieving over his brother.

One of the Weasley twins were dead. Draco might never have showed it, but he was rather fond of them, they brought some light to his former dreary existence.

This was war. And everyone would have to fight in order for one side to triumph at the end.

But their side was losing, awfully losing this battle. Unless some miracle happened, they'd lose and be subjected to a dictatorship. Their every move watched, being told what to eat, what to wear, how to act and who to marry. A rebelion would spark in the underground of London, Scotland and the surrounding areas. The rebels would be murdered on sight, but not by a green flash, by a means more sadistic. Sliced alive, mauled by werewolves, even turned into inferi - freedom will be a non-existent term, evem in death.

The future of the wizarding world flashed before Draco's eyes - he'd be at the forefront of the rebelion, of course. He couldn't live in the shadows, it just wasn't him.

''Draco!'' Hermione yelled. He glanced up, having just seen the nearby future by means of deduction. ''Go find help!''

He turned on the spot, testing the boundaries of the school. They were smashed. He apparated to his one true friend's house, besides the trio that is.

The Zabinis. They were strictly neutral, not wanting to choose a side in fear of their lives.

Upon his arrival, they cringed at his appearance. He had been dealt his fair share of hexes, curses and jinxes, so he looked a sight. Blaise helped him into their home, where he told them what happened.

The Zabinis were apalled, at numerous things. At the actions some Death Eaters had taken, to the extremes they'd gone to ensure they win.

Blaise stood up first, took out his wand and declared that he was going to go fight. Mr Zabini, who was a fairly bombastic man, looked at his son with a pride Draco had never seen anyone possess, much less him. He had always been distant and on the outside when Draco had visited Blaise, not talking much except when it was absolutely necessary.

Mr Zabini smiled (which was a shock for Draco - he'd never seen the man smile either) and nodded. Blaise looked satisfied, it meant his dad was in too. They looked at Mrs Zabini, who ignored them and was tapping Draco's various injuries with her wand.

Once she was finished, she walked to the front door of their home, where she turned around and looked expentantly at her family.

''Coming?''

The two Zabinis and Draco rushed forward, but Mr Zabini stopped Draco and Blaise.

''Go to the others, they'll want to help too.'' He said, stepping back and disapparating with his wife. Blaise and Draco joined hands and did as the Zabini head had asked.

There were numerous families who'd gone into hiding with the new rise of the Dark Lord. Fear was his greatest weapon, but Blaise's charm and almost lyrical way of words gave them hope. And hope overshadowed fear entirely.

They arrived as an army, finding chaos on the Hogwarts grounds. The Dark Lord was speaking, they couldn't hear what he was saying. Draco told Blaise to wait until he sent word before sneaking forward. When he came to the front of the crowd, he saw Harry.

He was dead, lying on the floor at the tyrant's feet, who was laughing coldly, making a dramatic speech about how he was now the ruler, he was now on top.

''You're not a god!'' Draco yelled, unable to stand it any longer. Gasps followed, and he spotted his parents, their hands clasped in terror and disbelief. Draco stepped forward, his eyes meeting Hermione's as he did so.

''The young Malfoy runt.'' Voldemort sneered, his slit-like nostrils flaring. Narcissa meant to move, but Lucius held her in place.

''Yes, me. The one who dared to defy your rule, after Regulus Black, that is another runt. We're all runts in you eyes, oh evil one.'' Draco bowed mockingly. He knew he was going to pay for his actions, but it was better in the grand scheme of things. He'd be a martyr - a fact his narcissistic side rather liked.

A lot of things happened at once. Longbottom burst through the crowd, he himself said a few words. It was when he yelled ''Dumbledore's Army!'' that chaos reigned again.

But Draco noticed that Potter's body was gone. He ran forward, grabbing Hermiione's hand and pulled her to him, placing a kiss on her lips.

''I do love you, Hermione.'' He said, slipping out of view again. He wanted Voldemort's blood dripping from the walls.

He sent an array of stars into the heavens, there were more than who they, he and Blaise, had gathered. The Slytherins had returned, and some had decided to join the cause.

Pansy clapped him on the back, smiling. ''Way to go, Tiger.''

''You could've told us of your change, Draco, you weren't the only one that wanted out.'' Theodore Nott screamed as he and Draco fought through several Death Eaters.

''Now I know!'' Draco answered. Then he broke through, Voldemort dueling three skilled individuals.

He found himself dueling alongside Ginny Weasley, who hadn't questioned his alliance and the pair of them mirrored each other in curse and hexes.

''Draco...'' A sickeningly sweet voice sang, nearly seducing him. His spine nearly froze as a chill set over him. Dementors couldn't even create this chill. It was his demented aunt.

''Lestrange.'' He bit back coldly.

''It ends here, Draco.'' She cackled, raised her wand in the air and surged forward. Draco sidestepped just in time, missing the green flash by a millimetre as it neared Ginny Weasley's heart...

She was one of Hermione's best friends - he coudn't allow it. He pushed her out of the way as the curse hit him.

He was elated. His last seconds passed in a flash. Horror struck Hermione's face, horror struck Weasley's face - Bellatrix was dead and Potter was alive.

Draco fell to the floor, almost as if in slow-motion, and he closed his eyes in finality. Draco Malfoy wouldn't let anyone close his eyes for him, he had dignity.

Hermione tried to go to him, but Molly's curse hit Bellatrix square in the chest as arms held her back. They were Ron's arms, she knew, but he couldn't be that selfish... Could he?

''Look, Hermione.'' He whispered into her ear, pointing at Harry. He was alive. He was alive!

There was what she knew would be the final face-off. Protagonist versus antagonist, the by-characters stood on the sidelines, waiting. For the time being, she worried about Harry.

And then, as it started, it was over. Everyone rushed to hug Harry, she one of the first, immediately extracting herself and looking for Draco.

He was gone. His body was gone from where he'd fallen. He'd been her fallen angel.

He'd fled this life, afraid of life, afraid of people... afraid of her.

She set herself on the top of the staircase. They were crumbled, and the dead surpassed the living. It was over, and that's what all the dead souls would care about. They won.

She felt a presence next to her, Ron. He put an arm around her shoulder, she was too weak to fight it off.

''I'm sorry about, you know...'' He started. ''Draco and kissing you.''

She turned her head to him and put it on his shoulderr. ''I understand, Ron. I do love you, but not like that.''

He shrugged. ''Me neither, I guess, it's just that I have this thing where I reckon the world's going to end... I grab the nearest girl and kiss her. It happened with Luna too, in the ministry.''

Hermione wanted to laugh, because it had been an admittedly humourous anecdote.

But Draco was gone. She hadn't told him she loved him, and she did. Oh, so, much.

Blinking back the tears wouldn't work. She turned her face into Ron's chest, allowing the tears to fall. She'd lost him. The spark was gone. And he would forever be the boy-who-fled. Ron's arms tightened around her.

''Hermione?''

She froze. Ron's arms slackened, he must've heard it too. It couldn't be... He was dead. She'd seen the curse hit him! How could it...

She turned to face him. He was there. Pale-faced, a bit dirty, thin, haggard... but he was there. Ron's arm fell from her shoulder, a grin covering his features.

''Took you long enough.'' Ron grumbled, earning a punch on the shoulder from Draco. He looked up at Hermione, who was standing on the stair above his. She smiled, tears burning her eyes, before she threw herself in his arms.

''How?'' She whispered, sniffing.

''Potter died for us all, Hermione, including me. The Dark Lord couldn't touch me.'' He explained. ''I just had some business to take care off. Like getting my parents out, they'd been in a rather large bit of trouble.''

She laughed wetly, placing an equally wet kiss on his cheek.

''I love you, Draco.'' She whispered, holding on to him for dear life.

''I know. I mean, you too.''

. . .

**A/N: Please review!**


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